


Irremediably Lost, Certainly Found

by Moadlc



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cuban Getaway Theory, F/M, FanFic for a class, Hannibal is crazy, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, Rating May Change, Season 4 theories, Slow Burn, Spoilers S3, Warnings will be in the beginning of the chapters, Will Graham deserves all the dogs in the world, Will is crazy, more characters will pop up, murder will be rampant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moadlc/pseuds/Moadlc
Summary: Will Graham is an FBI agent that has gone rogue in order to save the one he loves: part-time psychiatrist, and full-time murderer, Hannibal Lecter. After their close brush with death, they arrive on the sandy shores of Cuba, and seek to make a home there. However, the world can be a dark place for these two damaged souls. Will trouble spice up their seaside vacation, or will it claim their lives once again?





	1. Swim

He is flying.

Yet, not quite how a bird flies. Birds are smart creatures; they have control over their flight. Will Graham knows he has no control. The night sky is dark with a few stars partially visible, and part of him wishes he could see more of them. Stars remind him of his home in Wolftrap, Virginia. His vision is framed by the overwhelming darkness that surrounds him, and the small black dots blurring at the edges of his sight. The blood covering his body dries as the wind quickly hits his back. The wind is an overwhelming buzz of movement and sound that seems to drown out every other aspect of the universe. He knows where he is, and he knows he is falling, but fails to remember exactly what got him to this point. Him? Them. He is not alone. Will turns his head to look and-

He feels the sudden rush when he slams against the water. The swirling waves feel like concrete smashing through to his very soul. The world goes dark and still around him. 

[Six Hours Earlier] 

The caravan is moving steadily down the road. A collection of unmarked white vans, speeding down a desolate highway. The temperature inside the van is scorching, and Will can feel the sweat running slowly down his back. The same sweat that is making his curly hair stick uncomfortably against his forehead. He turns his head slightly, in order to keep an eye on the armed guard sitting next to him. 

“How does he stay so calm in this heat, even under all of that armor?” Will thinks as he observes the young man, trying to take in his features. The guard’s face is barely visible through his helmet, but the heat is still evident on his reddened skin. He is looking straight ahead, almost as if he is not really there at all. 

Will is fiddling with a small scab on his thumb, as he usually does when he is nervous. He knows he should not worry. Or better yet, that he should use his worry to fuel his alertness. Hannibal is sitting across him inside of his metal cage, bound in his white straight jacket and muzzle. His eyes are a frightening grey steel, and they keep looking at Will intensely. For a moment, he wishes he could tell what Hannibal was thinking, but later thinks better of it. After years of friendship, Will still can’t truly predict what Hannibal is thinking and it frightens him. It frightens him even more that he doesn’t want to let him go, even after everything Hannibal made him go through. A small shiver runs down his spine at the thought.

After an hour of driving, they establish a sort of routine. Will would take a deep breath, twiddle his thumbs, and look up at his friend. They would exchange a glance, trying to communicate what they could without sound, and then Will would look down at his lap and it would start again. They stayed like this, until a harsh, screeching noise forced the police van to come to a halt. Will hears confused screaming coming from outside the van’s doors and tries to peek through the gate, and out the windshield. 

A loud bang resonates through the metal walls of the van behind him, and suddenly Will is thrown out of his seat as the van tips over. Will and the guard slam against the gates of Hannibal’s cage. White noise, and a distant ringing in his ears disorients them. The guard struggles to hold on to his gun, and almost manages to find stability when the van’s back doors burst open. He levels his gun to shoot at their intruder, but misses. Through the haze, Will can make out the tell-tale boom of a shotgun being fired. The guard’s body jolts against him and what used to be his reddened face is now a sloppy mess of blood. It sprays all over him, as well as on Hannibal’s once pristine white bindings. Panicked, Will reaches for the guard’s gun, but a hand latches onto his arm to stop him. When he looks up, the attacker is looking straight at him. He is wearing a black mask that covers everything but his eyes. The man looks at Will, and brings his other hand up to his face, gesturing at Will to be quiet. He takes the guard’s gun and ammunition and leaves the van. 

Once the man is out of sight, Will frantically searches through the guard’s pockets trying to find a key for the cage. He can hear far away screams and shots ringing off the metal walls of the van. His fingers lock around the ring of keys, and he pushes the guard’s deadweight off of him. Will finds purchase against Hannibal’s cage, and looks at his friend for help. Hannibal is struggling to take off his restraints, small sounds escaping him, at least as much as his muzzle will allow. Will is still struggling with the lock on the cage, but pauses as the key slides into the hole. In that moment, there is a beat of silence, his eyes locking with Hannibal’s questioning ones. Against his better judgement, he turns the key. 

Click. 

The lock opens, and Will turns and steps out of the van. When he looks back, Hannibal has managed to stand outside of his cage, but is still struggling with his restraints. His gaze is focused on the floor, as if blaming it for his current predicament. Will grabs hold of one of the other man’s sleeves and pulls Hannibal out after him, panting from his effort. 

“Let me get this off.” Will says as they both stand on the road, while pulling at Hannibal’s restraints. They were already considerably loosened, and he is sure that Hannibal might have gotten them off himself, had he more time. After Will has loosened the buckles on his friend’s back, Hannibal shrugs off the straight jacket as Will moves to work on the fastenings of the muzzle. It falls to the floor as well, and Hannibal stretches his arms calmly, apparently unperturbed by the entire situation. Will takes a cautious look from behind the van, and finds that the road ahead is quiet. Upon closer inspection, he sees the bodies of the officers littered across the road, blood pooling slowly around them. There is no sign of the attacker. He tries to see if anyone is missing, but he gives up counting. They are all dead. Over 10 good men and women will not return home today because of him. 

“What the hell just happened?” Will screams around the lump forming around his throat, still trying to hide the panic in his voice. 

“I do believe we were ambushed, Will. Were you not paying attention?” Hannibal says, a small smirk present on his features. He walks around Will, practically striding to the closest car still standing. Incredulous, Will tries to follow, but is stopped by the sudden static of the guard’s radio cracking to life. A single voice is heard through the tiny speaker. 

“Officer Hurley, do you copy? Officer Hurley, is something wrong? Over.” 

He goes back, and scrambles inside the van until he finds the radio. He steps out, pulling with the body of the guard closer to the edge, so he can talk into the radio while standing outside of the van. His hands are stained crimson around the tiny radio, and his fingers are slippery against the buttons. 

“This is Will Graham. We have officers down. Requesting backup, over.” His voice feels rough against the tightness in his throat. He knows he should cry, or at least feel anger, but he can’t bring himself to. All he feels is numb. 

“Roger that, backup is on the way Mr. Graham. Is Dr. Lecter secure? Over.” The voice at the other end of the radio says. Will is about to respond when he hears the sound of an engine pulling up next to him. He turns around, the radio still in his hand. Hannibal pushes the passenger door open, a charming smile adorning his features.

“Going my way?” He says, and Will almost pushes the button to respond. He knows Hannibal is dangerous. All his years of FBI training are screaming at him, begging him to let the officer know. Let them know Hannibal is free, and possibly armed. However, there is an expectant, yet hopeful look in Hannibal’s eyes that makes Will reconsider. That is when he knows, if he leaves him now, he will break his heart. He can’t do that to him, not again. Will sets the radio down gently on top of the officer’s body, and turns to walk towards the open passenger door. Hannibal smiles openly now, his true smile, the one Will has rarely seen. 

The radio crackles to life. “Mr. Graham please respond, is Hannibal Lecter secure? Over.” The voice on the radio sounds panicked, his replies are coming in faster.   
“Will, are you there?! Over” Will places his hand on the handle, climbing into the car slowly. 

“Please respond. All available units please converge on Highway 67, kilometer 3.4. Officers down and requesting back up. Over”

The radio crackles to life one last time. This time the voice sounds deeper, and grimmer.   
“Be advised, Dr. Hannibal Lecter is armed and dangerous. Shoot on sight. Over and out.” That is the last thing Will hears as he closes the door. He turns to look at his friend, and fellow fugitive. They exchange a wordless glance, and the car speeds away.


	2. Slumber

            Will can hear the distant beeping of their alarm getting closer, but it is the warmth of the sun seeping through the bedroom window that wakes him. Will refuses to open his eyes, trying to relish in the few moments of sleep he has left. Bringing his hands up to his face, he tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“Good morning, Will.”

Hannibal’s voice washes over him as he turns to lay on his back. He finally opens his eyes, only to see Hannibal sitting by the foot of their bed gazing at him. He looks different in the soft light of dawn, with no trace of the darkness that had haunted him for so long after the Fall. It seems he has been awake for a bit, a quick glance around the room manages to inform him. Will sees their burgundy chair in the corner of the bedroom, which has a set of dress clothes laid out for the day, with matching shoes posed in front of the mirror next to it. Looking back at his friend, Will notices the faint smile on Hannibal’s lips, which -when combined with his tousled hair and shirtless frame- makes Hannibal quite the sight.

“Morning” Will manages to mumble back, sitting up on the bed and throwing the covers off himself. He grimaces at the familiar tension rising in his temples. The constant pulsing that he just can’t seem to runaway from. They are both running from many things these days. He reaches blindly for the nightstand, trying to find his medication.

“Fifth time this week that you wake up needing these.”

Hannibal says as he hands Will the bottle of aspirin, along with a glass of water he had seemingly prepared beforehand. After swallowing two of the white pills and half the glass of water, Will frowns at the chalky taste left in his mouth.

“Are you sure you are not coming down with something?” Hannibal questions as he moves to sit next to Will’s lap, shuffling until their thighs touch and his hand cradles Will’s cheek. He looks into his eyes, as if searching for any symptoms Will’s body has had the audacity to hide from him. His other hand comes up to brush away the errant hairs that are still stuck to Will’s forehead, brushing them back tenderly as he checks his partner’s temperature. Will chuckles softly as he grabs Hannibal’s hands and brings them down to his lips and just to press a soft kiss on his partner’s knuckles.

            “I’m fine. Just keep having some bad dreams.” His voice is barely a whisper, but it is loud compared to the stillness of the room. A small, almost imperceptible gleam goes through Hannibal’s eyes and he straightens his back. _Always ready for a battle._

            “These wouldn’t be the same dreams that involve you killing me, would they?” Hannibal’s hands fall from Will’s grip as he turns to reach for something he had left at the edge of the bed. He slowly lays two maroon-colored ties on Will’s lap, gingerly flattening them out as he patiently waits for Will’s answer, to both the question he just voiced and the silent one he has literally laid on him. This is their routine.

            “Oh no, those dreams… Let’s just say they don’t happen as often anymore” A yawn escapes Will as he speaks, and he stretches his arms over his head, dragging his shirt up slightly, revealing a thin strip of skin. He sees Hannibal’s eyes flicker down to his waist, his gaze burning his exposed skin.

            Raising one brow, Hannibal relaxes back unto himself, the tension seeming to roll off him as he takes Will in.

“Have you grown bored of murdering me already?”

Though his tone is teasing, Will can sense some lingering disappointment hiding behind his words. The consequent chill that runs down his spine is something that he hides deep within himself, even after months of being on the run together.

“You could never bore me.” Will’s shoots back, a bit too quickly for his liking. When did that happen? He takes a second to look around the room, scanning to find the clothes he had left on the floor last night neatly folded on top of their wooden dresser. The sun is shining on the entire room now, starting to fill it with the heat of the day. The white curtain flutters against the soft breeze, which is filling the room with a faint smell of the ocean.

Will can’t seem to meet Hannibal’s gaze, even as he picks up one of the ties from his lap and wraps it around his partner’s neck. He smooths out the velvet smooth fabric, taking in every aspect of its contrast against Hannibal’s chest. The red fabric shining slightly against his friend’s skin, a single scarlet stroke on a tan canvas.

_Hannibal’s body is hanging from the ceiling of the Verger warehouse, his white bindings and ropes holding him in place. Will stands before him, his hands trailing up slowly on his body as he nears his therapist’s neck. His skin is hot to the touch, the air between them riddled with energy. An energy that beckons Will to go further. He can feel Hannibal’s pulse as he runs his hands up the man’s throat, his thumbs locking around the Adam’s apple. Their eyes meet, and for a second, Will forgets to breathe. Hannibal’s voice runs through him, “Not fond of eye contact?” He presses his hands together. Hard._

Will hums as he repeats the procedure with the other tie, this time running his hands down the lapels and tugging them toward himself until he can reach Hannibal’s lips. He presses his lips against them softly, giving him a brief kiss before breaking away and moving to stand up.

            “Wear that one today, it suits you.” Will murmurs before standing from bed and walking to the bathroom door. He leaves Hannibal watching him from their bed, his usual smirk adorning his lips. 

\----------------------------

They make their way out of their house, and Will makes sure to leave a note for their maid Suzanna, letting her know that she can let the dogs stay in the backyard after she leaves for the day. She has been taking care of their house twice a month, and ever since Will saw that she was sweet to the dogs, he decided that he liked her. When he steps outside, Will finds Hannibal waiting for him at the gate, looking out to the small valley that leads to the sea while he waits. He’s wearing dark slacks, with a loose-fitting white button up and the tie Will had picked out for him. An involuntary smile creeps up on him at the detail.

            “I’ll probably be late tonight, especially if Ernesto hasn’t found the parts for _Maria_ yet.”

Will mentions as he waits for Hannibal to protest. He never likes it when Will spends so much time away in the sailboat, especially without him. To his surprise, he is met by a fond, silent nod. Hannibal wraps one arm around his partner’s waist, and gently kisses him one last time before making his way into town.

Will watches him wordlessly walk down the street, one hand stuffed inside his pockets, the other holding on to his suit jacket. They always tend to go their separate ways during the weekdays, much to Will’s relief. It grants him time to think.  _He’s planning something._ His mind supplies helpfully. _But when is he not?_ He pushes that thought aside.

Will starts to make his way to the boatyard, making sure to pick up his usual loaf of bread, and fresh milk at the _colmado_ for Doña Adelia on the way. Ever since they arrived in Holguin five months ago, she has helped them settle in and find good places to lay low and avoid any trouble. He remembers being wary around her, mostly because he couldn’t seem to figure out what she was after. Everyone wants something. Everyone has their own design. He still hasn’t figured hers out.

 Will enjoys basking in the sunlight with her every morning, making idle conversation as they watch bees fly between the flowers in her garden. In many ways, she reminds him of his mother and in many more ways, she doesn’t.

 _“Tengo pasteles! ¡Pasteles, manteca y mariquitas!”_ A young man is walking up the cobblestone street, shouting at the top of his lungs as he struggles to push the cart of miscellaneous treats and gifts in front of him. As Will passes him, the bags of light brown pastries catch his eye. He stops him, trying his best to ask him for two pastries in the stunted Spanish of his college years.

 _“Puedo, um, compras dos por favor?”_ Will says as he points at the bag containing the fluffy, dark pie that he knows Doña Adelia will enjoy.

 _“Ay, gringito! Te cobraria cinco convertibles si tuviera el corazon”_ Will nods politely, pretending to understand and hands the young man the money, grabs the bag and starts on his way to Adelia’s again. As he takes the turn to Adelia’s street, the paved road turns into a beaten down, sandy path littered with fruit trees and intermittent shade. The smell of the sea is stronger down here, and secretly he knows that this is why he loves it.

_“This is all I ever wanted, for both of us Will.” Hannibal’s breath is caressing his neck. The waves crashing on the rocks below cause a misty spray to hit his face. The moon shines brightly above their blood-soaked bodies, making the crimson liquid appear pitch black. His head is resting against Hannibal’s chest, and he can feel the beating of his heart against his cheek. His hands are scrambling for purchase at his waist, tugging the man closer to him. The words. He utters the words he never thought he would say. “It’s beautiful.”_

            Will is startled out of his thoughts by the rough slap of a sandal hitting his side. Doña Adelia is looking at him from the door of her home, her brow raised and fists perched strongly at her waist. Her silver hair is tied back into a neat bun, and she is wearing her patched apron. It must be cleaning day.

            “ _Oye bandolero_! Are you planning on coming inside anytime soon? The _cafecito_ is going to get cold.” She yells out at him, beckoning Will to follow her inside. Once he does, he sets the food on the kitchen table, and she kisses his cheek with glee when she sees the pies.

            “ _Pastel de guayaba_!! Willito, you know that’s my favorite” She gives him a toothy smile as she pushes him to sit down, while setting a small coffee in front of him.

            “Thank you Adelia, it’s the least I could do.” He offers her a small smile, hoping that she won’t question why he seems so distracted this morning.

            “That boyfriend of yours better watch out, I might just steal you away one of these days” Her eyes light up as she laughs, filling her small kitchen with her laughter. Will is about to correct her assumption of their relationship but can’t seem to find the right words. If he is being honest with himself, he is still not sure what they are. _We are fugitives_ , his mind makes sure to remind him. Even so, Adelia’s contagious laughter has him chuckling along. This is their routine.

            “Have you heard about anything interesting Doña?” He says instead, and she goes on to tell him about one of her grandson’s wedding, an interesting sermon she went to recently, and eventually some rumors she has heard around town.

“Don’t go all _telenovela_ on me Adelia” He tries to suppress his amusement at the pure indignation that goes through Adelia’s face.

“ _Vamos, no seas así._ I also picked up on the things you like to hear about… Such as a murder in Habana?” Her face is smug when she sees that she has Will’s undivided attention. She wins this round.  

“It’s real suspicious. Julia told me that the _chamaco_ was missing an arm.” She shakes her head solemnly. He wants to question her further when a young boy, about 10 years old barges into Adelia’s kitchen. The sweat is drenching his face, making his brown hair stick to his forehead. He is carrying a yellow package, which he hands to Adelia as he catches his breath.

“ _Me lo dieron para Míster Graham!_ ”  Adelia takes the package from the boy, who runs away promptly. Adelia looks up in confusion and worry at Will. They both eye the bag suspiciously, and she slowly walks to him and hands him the parcel. There is no address on it. 

Will sets aside the bowl of fruit and his coffee in front of him and proceeds to open the package. She waits for him to open it, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Will shakes out its contents in front of him. He lets out a breath he did not know he had been holding once he sees what was inside. There are two matching passports, and IDs, one for him and one for Hannibal. He picks up the ID meant for him and reads his new name. ‘James Dancy.’ Hannibal must have come up with the name. Yet, when he picks up Hannibal’s new ID, he is confused. His reads ‘Arthur Dancy.’ There must be some mistake.

            Will looks inside the parcel, and finds a small box still stuck at the bottom of the package. He retrieves it, his brow furrowed as he examines its exterior. It’s a solid, white jewelry box. Why would they need jewelry to leave the country? Once he opens the box, Will simply stares at the contents in stunned silence. Curiosity getting the best of her, Adelia walks up closer to see what’s inside and she gasps.

            Rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thank you for waiting so patiently. I appreciate any comments you have! Always great to have feedback. Check out my tumblr: Melmassacre (Everything Together)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This will be a multi-chapter thing. I want to thank everyone in my Fan_Fic class for helping me have motivation to write this. Let's see where this adventure takes us.


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